lace cuffs

Wait, Victorian Trading Co. no longer stocks these lace cuffs? Nooooo! I’ve been needing to get an ivory set (to match the jabot they apparently no longer stock, either) for ages!

shutupItotallyneedmorerufflythingsignorewhatIsaidinthatvideo.

THIS. IS. BIG. - model: Zoe Kravitz - photography: Alexi Lubomirski - styling: Samira Nasr - hair: Nikki Nelms - makeup: Kara Yoshimoto Bua - manicure: Emi Kudo - set design: Bryan Porter - production: Jessica Hafford - Elle February 2017

  • Dior dress & bra - Repose ear cuffs - her own earrings
The Raid

I woke up at 5.30 and couldn’t fall back to sleep, so I fell into Sterek feels instead. Thought I’d try to make some sense of the story it looks like they’re telling (possibly a futile attempt, but…)

I’m on mobile, so no read more, sorry!

1.7k

T rating

*****

It had taken Stiles a while to get comfortable leaving his phone on silent when he was in the middle of something; the idea of being unreachable, or worse, unaware of the current threat had haunted him for months. The reality of being almost 3,000 miles away eventually sunk in and he was able to accept being temporarily out of the loop when he needed to focus. It was equal parts terrifying and freeing, a sort of nauseating relief.

So when he sees a missed call from Chris Argent after his last class before break, his heart drops immediately into his stomach. The voice-mail is maddeningly vague, but before it’s even over Stiles is shoving a few last essentials into his mostly packed duffel bag and impatiently waiting the handful of seconds for Chris to pick up his phone.

Chris has barely gotten a “Stiles” out before Stiles rushes out “What’s going on?”

Thankfully, Chris doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. “There’s a rumor that there’ll be an FBI raid at a location I’ve been looking into for some possible illegal hunting. Can you see what you find out from whatever contacts you’ve made there?”

“Yeah, of course. Give me a couple hours. Do we know when it’s supposed to be happening?”

“Week from last Friday, so what, few days from now,” Stiles feels overwhelmingly sorry for Chris, the man must be pushing himself hard if he’s losing track of the days. “I’m not sure what their interest is, possibly a human trafficking angle,” Stiles’ stomach clenches at that. The idea of it so abhorrent it makes him shiver; the fact that hunters are involved, and therefore some of the people involved are likely to be werewolves adds an extra layer of disgust, a too vivid picture of Erica, Boyd,and Derek at the mercy of unhinged hunters flashes in his head and his whole body tenses. Chris confirms the thought with his next words, “but it’s not like they’ll be prepared for what they’ll find if my intel is right.”

“Right, I’ll get back to you as soon as I have something.”

“Thanks, Stiles,” Chris says sincerely, the exhaustion in his voice obvious, and Stiles has a moment of shameful relief that he’s not responsible for any of whatever is going on. It doesn’t last long. Chris inhales audibly, and Stiles instinctively prepares for a blow. “And Stiles,” he begins and pauses, reluctance and regret clear in his voice and in the short silence, “You should know that there’s a Beacon Hills connection to whatever we’re walking into.” Before Stiles can demand more, Chris adds an apologetic “I don’t know more than that right now, but I’m looking into it.”

Stiles drops onto his crappy dorm mattress, the weight of the information making his legs buckle. Stiles chokes out “I’ll call you back tonight,” and hangs up.

The call to Rafael McCall takes an eternity to connect, so when he finally answers, Stiles doesn’t wait for a greeting. “I need to know everything you know about a possible human trafficking raid happening in a few days that has a connection to Beacon Hills.”

“Hello to you, too, Stiles,” Rafael says in that condescending way he has always addressed others with, and Stiles is reminded that despite the man having put in a good word for him at the FBI, he was a first class asshole.

Stiles grits his teeth and manages a “Please,” letting his panic color his voice and hoping Mr McCall is having a day where he’s capable of basic human compassion.

He gets lucky, because Rafael responds with “I’ll see what I can find out, but no promises.”

“Fair enough, but I need it tonight.”

Rafael sighs, but agrees, and Stiles disconnects the call. Stiles spends the next two hours on the computer, finding everything he can on human trafficking, reaching out to contacts for information on hunters who’ve gone off the rails, and wishing Danny was there to help him find a backdoor into government files.

When Rafe calls back with a time and place, Stiles has a frustratingly small list of notes, but at least he has confirmation to pass along to Chris. Rafael has managed to get himself assigned to the team going on the raid, citing his “personal interest,” and Stiles manages not to scoff at the idea that the man has any real connection to Beacon Hills or its inhabitants. Still, Stiles says a sincere “Thank you,” before he tells Rafael firmly “I’m going with you.”

Rafe sighs out a resigned “I figured you’d say that. You’ll have a seat in my vehicle, otherwise I know you’ll just show up on your own.”

He’s not wrong. “Thank you,” he repeats, this time, he says goodbye befits hanging up to call Chris.

*****

Sitting in the government issue black SUV while FBI agents move with surprising stealth to prepare to storm the building is excruciating. Being told to stay in the car isn’t surprising, but it makes him feel anxious and angry and helpless all the same.

While the agents surround the building, a familiar figure approaches Stiles’ car. Stiles barely restrains himself from hugging Chris,the relief at seeing him, at seeing someone from home, from his life in Beacon Hills, from his pack of misfits, is almost staggering.

He settles for a nod of greeting and gratefully accepts Chris’ hand on his shoulder, letting the weight of it ground him.

“Stiles,” Chris says, clearly unsurprised at seeing him there, but decidedly unhappy about it. “I know you couldn’t, but damn do I wish you’d stayed away from this, kid. I’m sorry for dragging you back into this shitshow.” Stiles can see Allison’s ghost in Chris’s eyes, and it hurts in a way he knows it always will.

“I don’t think I could really stay out. Not forever,” he tries to reassure Chris. “Plus, if I could’ve helped and I didn’t, I’d never forgive myself.” Chris squeezes his shoulder, but his face draws tight.

“We’re moving in as soon as the FBI does, hoping the chaos gives us some cover. I wish they weren’t watching this place, so we could’ve moved in as soon as we found this place,” Chris says as he drops his hand to check his weapon. Before he turns to move into position, he levels Stiles with a sympathetic look. “I don’t want to tell you, but you should know, Derek is in there.”

Stiles freezes, he can’t feel his hands for a moment, but uses his thumb to count off his fingers, hoping with all he has that this is all a bad dream. There are only five fingers, and Stiles feels icy dread rushing through his veins. Chris’s voice pulls him from the edge of panic, “Whatever you do, be careful,” he says, the words heavy between them but a strange comfort nonetheless as Chris pats his shoulder again and walks away with practiced silence.

It takes Stiles less than 30 seconds to make a plan. With determination and likely ill advised bravery, honed over two plus years of fighting monsters–human and supernatural alike–he turns on the radio scanner in the SUV and assesses the unassuming old warehouse for a good entry point.

*****

When he finds Derek, he almost cries when Derek looks up from where he’s sagged against a crumbling wall, a complicated mix of emotions playing across his face. Derek chokes out “Stiles?” and despite the confusion in his voice, hearing his name from Derek’s mouth again is incredible.

Stiles takes in the room as he walks through it, a standard villain’s lair except for the heavy chains bolted to the walls, floor, and disturbingly, the ceiling. And the IVs filled with what Stiles assumes is a wolfsbane solution, considering there’s one in Derek’s arm. Anger and relief swirl around in his brain as he moves to Derek’s side, pulling the IV from his arm with disgusted satisfaction.

He’s restrained, but thankfully only by heavy leather cuffs–laced with more wolfsbane, judging by the reddened skin on Derek’s wrists. Stiles takes Derek’s hands, one at a time, removing the cuffs carefully and tossing them away.

“Hey, Der,” he says, cupping Derek’s face with one hand and resting the other on his shoulder. “Not quite the reunion we were planning, big guy, but we need to get the hell out of here, okay?”

Derek is worryingly quiet, eyes glassy from the drugs in his system, a look of shock and something like awe on his face. “Hey,” Stiles pats Derek’s cheek, not willing to slap him to awareness while he’s been so abused. “Derek, we need to go, are you with me?” His thumb traces Derek’s cheek as he pleads and tries to calculate how far he can carry Derek before he can’t anymore. “Der, c’mon, let’s go, c’mon. Please.”

Derek closes his eyes tightly for a second, and when he opens them again they’re clearer. Stiles fights the urge to sag against him in relief, but it’s a near thing.

“Yeah,” Derek says, voice raw (Stiles willfully ignores the knowledge that that means Derek’s likely been screaming for long hours, over however many days). “Yeah, I’m with you. I’m with you. Let’s go.”

Stiles breathes out heavily and gratefully, standing to help pull Derek off the floor. Derek stumbles, the wolfsbane making his movements unsteady, but Stiles catches him. He drapes Derek’s arm over his shoulder, gripping his forearm firmly and wrapping his free arm around Derek’s middle. They both hold on to each other tightly.

They make it into the hallway just as a team of FBI agents run down it in the opposite direction. Stiles is grateful for the vest Rafael had given him to wear, as not a single agent gives him a second glance.

Derek grips Stiles’ shirt as they struggle down the dim corridor, Stiles pulls him closer in response, taking more of his weight as Derek slips. He’d had to leave Derek once, and it had torn him apart; he wouldn’t be leaving him again.

They just had to get to Rafael’s car, then Stiles could get them both far away from this nightmare. Mr McCall will understand.

A road trip should give Derek time to recover, give them time to reconnect, to decide what to do next. Plus, it sounded like a much better reunion story; they deserved a kinder story.

Originally posted by dyjanobrien

5

A rare Charles Frederick Worth historically-inspired voided velvet ball gown, 1885-8, 

Woven white on white ‘Worth Paris’ gros-grain label to the waist stay, the boned bodice with sharp points front and back waist, back-laced, edged in ecru guipure with amber-coloured beads and looped tangerine satin rosettes, the velvet woven with large scale Arum lily repeats overall, the front skirt panel of orange cannelé silk front adorned with lace, elaborate gold beaded braid and ribbons, the main velvet skirt with polonaise ribbon ties, with remains of one long organza sleeve with lace cuff

You make me feel Nothing - a Phanfiction

(Soulmate AU where a circle forms on every child’s wrist when it’s born, the colour signaling which sensation/emotion they are not going to be able to feel until they kiss their soulmate. Inspired by @wavydanrises​‘ story “Second Chances”)


“You’re telling me my son … my son won’t ever love me?” 

He’s the weird kid. If they could just stop making sure he remembers, he might even be able to forget it for a few seconds.


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Miranda & James
This started with a photo I found of T’s face for my last sketch, which just had that lovely dip in his cheekbones in shade. From there I used a few different caps, Miranda’s face is from Nassau, I added costume from her giving him Don Quixote. Hands and arms are my composition, a bit wooly on the shirts/lace cuffs again. It was a toss up between other figure being Thomas, Miranda and Admiral Henessey. I hadn’t drawn her in a while, so she won. This is 6 hrs over 3 days. Hb/h mechanical pencil, on vellum Bristol.

Ditto

Originally posted by nnochu

Character(s): Reader X Jimin

Genre: fluff, romance, slight?smut (not rlly any smut)

Warning(s): none

Length: 1.8k

Summary: In which you need a favor and Jimin, your next door neighbor, is wearing a maid costume, ready to help.


Good friends are hard to come by.

The thought passes through your mind fleetingly as you stare at Yoongi’s crumpled form on your couch, surrounded by empty chip bags and take out containers.

“My god,” he groans, flinging an arm over his eyes in mock distress, “How do you not have any more food?”

Your eyes narrow as you stand in the doorframe of your kitchen, pantry and refrigerator empty. “Maybe,” you hiss, crossing your arms over your chest and cocking your hip, “It’s because you sat there and ate everything I have at 6:30 AM and now my mom is coming over and she’s going to think I can’t function as an adult in the real world!”

Yoongi snorts, lifting his arm off his face to crack open one eye, “You only had three bags of chips and a tub of ice cream, sweetheart. You’re no functioning adult.”

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4

FANCY WEAVE SILK and SATIN WEDDING DRESS, 1880.

2-piece, cream satin bodice trimmed in silk woven with gold tropical foliage, three quarter sleeve inset with silk diamond shapes, lace cuff and neckline with satin bows, back having foliate streamers with tassels and tabbed hem, trained skirt with patterned front having satin bows and swag with large bow and tassels, hem points over satin pleats, satin back with train edged in three rows of pleats, backed in stiffened gauze and lace.

realorafable  asked:

do you have any ideas as to what myrish lace might look like, perhaps compared to a lace that we may have (in our world)? i never know what to visualize, and grrm does seem to mention it quite a lot so it has been bugging me! thank you so much!!!

Hi! It’s hard to say what Myrish lace might look like, because GRRM doesn’t describe it in detail, and there’s actually lots of different types of lace in our own world. Let’s see what the text says about Myrish lace, and maybe that will help us visualize it.

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6

Aristide

A collaboration with the lovely Emily Combs.

A sculpture based off of her incredibly imaginative and beautiful drawings. Check out her amazing work here—–> click me tho
That is an actual coyote head and spine. A corset of ribbon binds the skin on her back between each vertebrae, along with lace cuffs made by Emily. Both coyotes used in this sculpture were road kill.

This was accompanied in a gallery space by my drawings, Emily’s illustrations, and poetry by the amazingly talented writer, Sam McCormick .

I have made another post with some detail shots of this pretty doge’s visceral elegance in all its glory and gory detail. Check that post out here—–>prettypawsanddoggyclaws

A Victorian Part Full Dress and Undress Uniform to an Officer of the Duke of Lancaster’s Own Yeomanry, comprising a black leather helmet with white horse hair plume, gilt metal acanthus leaf plume holder and pommel, helmet plate (lacks chin strap and ear rosettes, in a black japanned helmet tin; a red tunic with blue cloth facings and shaped lapels, bullion lace and rose to the stand-up collar, and lace trimmed cuffs, with brass buttons; a silver bullion lace trimmed blue morroco shoulder belt with silver pouch, buckle, slide, chains and pickers, hallmarks for London 1855; a blue morocco sabretache, with gold bullion lace trim and appliqué, waist belt with rose cast clasp and sword sling, in a japanned tin case; a pair of brass spurs, by Maxwell, London; a black forage cap, with gilt bullion lace trim; a black single breasted frock coat, with stand-up collar and six loops of black braiding, each loop having two olivets; white leather shoulder and waist belt, with sword sling and gilt metal fittings; a pair of steel spurs, by Maxwell of London, together with a small green tin trunk.

Bad Boy Part 2

So awhile back, when I just started to began writing on tumblr, I wrote a presmut for Jun where he tried to finger you during dinner. And I said that I was gonna make a part 2? Then I never did…whoops…ANYWAY I totally just wrote it today. It’s my first actually smut. I’ve written foreplay, and I’ve read alot of smut, but I’ve never written it. I’m v sorry if it’s bad. I’ll try harder on my next one. This was way out of my comfort zone is all. 

Also HAPPY BIRTHDAY JUN I LOvE YOU AND YOU”rE PROBABLY NEVER GONNA SEE THIS BUT YOU”RE MY BABY BIAS AND I LOvE YOU

I will also post some Junhui fluff tomorrow for his birthday in return for procrastinating because I am a horrible person. And I also have part 2 to ‘I’m Sick of you’ That I need to write. I will definitely get more organized I just got out of school so my schedule is clear for most of my summer yay I’m also going to organize my blog so its just writing because I’m so freaking messy! anyway enjoy the smut!

p,s. I know a lot of you probably see Jun as such a freaking Dom but like I love the idea of him begging. It’s probably so hot

Part 2/2 (You can find part 1 here)

Word count: 3105

Genre: Smut (are your tired of the word yet?)

Originally posted by junhuipie

“Stay.” You ordered him, as if he was a misbehaving dog. It’s not that far off, you think, as he stares after you longingly with puppy-dog eyes. He lunges for your skirt just as you were about to step outside, but you slapped his hand away just in time. “Bad boy.” You scolded him, and closed the door. When you looked back, you could see him punch the seat of the car through the window. Kinky little shit. Too bad he was so needy because you would have really enjoyed that.

Feeling powerful, and a bit evil, you walked through the lobby and straight up to (f/n)’s apartment. She grinned at you and pulled you into a grateful hug, and you were glad you chose to help her move into her apartment.

“I’ve missed you so much.” (F/n) admitted once you two began to rearrange the cardboard boxes near the couch.

“I know! I can’t believe the last time we talked was eighth-”

The doorbell rang. “Grade…” Your heart stopped. “I-I’ll go see who it is.” You shouted while jumping athletically over cardboard boxes. Well, athletic besides falling on your face and walking carefully after that. You slowly open the door, praying it’s not who you are afraid it is. Your fears are confirmed by the dark shape that flies at you before the door’s even fully open. Jun throws himself at you with such longing that the force of the kiss knocks you over. All you can feel are his lips pressed against yours, pushing harder than your resistance to him. Every movement he makes tears down bit by bit of the wall of defiance you built between the two of you. He shifts, and suddenly you were aware of your back against the rough carpeting, his thighs warm against yours, his-

I can’t. You tell yourself. I can’t let him get his way or I’ll lose all control over him. And we’re in my friend’s apartment. You remember as a second thought.

Like he knew what you were thinking, he chooses that exact moment to take your bottom lip between his teeth and force his tongue into your mouth. Even though he only attacked you maybe three seconds ago, it seems as though time slows to a crawl every time he holds you.

(F/n) should be wondering what happened right about now. She should be heading this way to check on me any second. You use the horror of this thought to gather your strength and push him off of you. He let out an unintentional gasp of shock as you shoved him away, a gasp similar to the one a small child makes when you hand them a lollipop, then snatch it back when they’re just starting to enjoy it. And you don’t want him to enjoy this.

You want to build up his frustration by denying him over and over again, until he can’t take it. Both of you love when you act dominant, and what could be more dominant than putting it off until he can’t bear it any more? He’ll do anything for you when you have that kind of control. And the idea of making him beg is quite enjoyable. You snapped out of it. Focus, you reminded yourself. Deny him.

There was now about two inches of space between your faces, none between anything below your torsos. You stared right into Jun’s eyes as you called out to (f/n). “I’m fine, I just tripped again!”

She laughs. “Who is it?”

“Just the mail carrier.” You state deliberately, reveling in the pain in Jun’s eyes.

Jun was holding himself up with his arms, but looked ready to fall on you again. His mouth moved towards your neck.

“Don’t you dare.” You hissed. He moved quickly, and had his mouth on your skin before you had time to react, but a second later you managed to roll him over, although it took all your willpower not to succumb to his touch. You sat on top of him now, on his stomach, straddling him. His abs were tensed.

He whimpered pitifully “(y/n), I don’t wanna wait for you to come back. I can’t wait for you, I-” he shudders pleasurably.

“Get yourself the hell out of here, understand?” You whispered harshly at him. He nodded, exhaling sharply through his nose. Right once you said that, you heard (f/n) walking through the apartment toward you. Panicking, you blurt “Change of plans. You’re staying here.” You don’t have enough time to get him out the door. You pull him up and roughly shove him into a nearby closet, the only hiding place.

You barely had time to register what had happened when (f/n) walked in. “You okay?” She asked you.

“Yep.” You lied, laughing uncomfortably and adjusting your skirt.

“Where’s the mail?”

“Ummm, it was just some magazines.” You gestured vaguely at the boxes behind you.

“Okay, well I’ve got the couch away from the wall, so it’s ready to be-” your friend starts, but is interrupted by Jun abruptly falling out of the closet. It appears he was trying to open the doors from the inside, and failed miserably. Not missing a beat, Jun chooses this moment to try to be funny and announce to everyone in the room: “I’m here and I’m horny.” Well, everyone in the room heard, but he wasn’t aware that that included anyone else but you. You could tell when he realized he had company, because his eyes widened ever so slightly.

“Yes, I can see that.” You friend responded, quite nonchalantly for the situation. She glanced between his crotch and you in a millisecond. “Is this what you do with your free time?” She addressed you. You were blushing furiously. “Well, this is fantastic, one more person to help move the couch!”

After the couch was correctly relocated, (f/n) dusts off her hands. “Thank you guys so much!” She grins cheekily. “Feel free to use it, if you need to.” She wandered out of the room. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. When you opened them, Jun was looking at you, in a… daring way.

“No.”

“Why not?” He whined. “Don’t you think I’ve suffered enough?”

“I told you, you have to be punished.” You shamed. “Have you learned nothing?”

He blankly watched your face as you moved around the room, his breathing uneven. His eyes were a dangerous dark shade, glazed over with lust.

After what seems like forever, you finished organizing the boxes in the room. Just then, (f/n) walked back in. “Oh, you guys aren’t doing anything?” She sounded almost disappointed. “Nope, I think we’re done here, hope to see you later!” You responded quickly walking out of the room, dragging Jun behind you.

You got to the car after much struggling on his part. When you shoved him roughly into the car, he looked up at you hopefully, like he was expecting you to give him what he wanted. But instead you slammed the door and walked around to the trunk. When you opened the trunk, you could hear him, sounding nervous, calling your name, wanting to know what you were doing. You heard him trying to open the door, and discovering them locked. Metal gleamed as you grabbed something from underneath a blanket.

He let out what sounded like an audible gasp as he saw the pair of handcuffs you were holding. He had bought those to use on you, but oh how the tables had turned. You harshly ripped the door open, and grabbed his wrist. He squirmed under you, but you still grasped a hold of the limb as you put the handcuffs around one wrist and laced the remaining hand cuff through the handle of the ceiling of the car and then finished handcuffing him completely to above the window of the car. You then stormed over to the driver seat, and started to aggressively drive down the road.

He struggled angrily against the chains. “I need you now, Jagiya,” he moaned. When that didn’t get your attention, he started making threats. “I swear when we get home you’re not gonna be able to walk tomorrow.” You scoffed. Angry tears spilled from his eyes. You know he doesn’t like being prevented, but he should have known better, besides he’ll enjoy it later when it pays off.

But for the time being, he was frustrated. He was frustrated and in pain the whole ride home, but when you pulled into your driveway he perked up, hopeful. You sat there in silence for a minute. Not a word or even a sound came out of either of your mouths before you quickly opened the door and climbed out of the car. You walked around to the side Jun was on and opened the door. Juns lustful eyes looked up at you. You stared down at him for a bit just taking in his beauty.

“Babygirl-” Before he could finish the sentence you were sitting on top of him, straddling his waist between your legs. You pushed your lips onto him harshly, and he returned the kiss in the same manner. You couldn’t take it anymore and man neither could he. He really couldn’t wait anymore.

He pulled harshly on the metal restraints holding his hands above his head. He just wanted to touch you. He wanted to feel you. You pulled away to take them off of him, and he latched onto your neck, devouring the skin, and tracing his lips down to your collarbone.

As soon as the handcuffs were off of him, he grabbed the outside of your upper leg and ran his hands up under your skirt, your lips meeting again. You moaned into the kiss as he grasped your ass in both hands and squeezed, your hands grasping his shoulders tightly. You pulled away and he looked at you confused, as you wriggled out of his grip. You climbed out of the car and walked away from him, taunting him. You quickly unlocked the front door, and you waited. You looked over your shoulder, and Jun climbed out of the car, following you, slamming the car door behind him. You had him wrapped around your finger.

As he met you at the front porch, you grasped his tie between your fingers pulling him into the house. As he walked through the front threshold, you connected your lips with his, and he slammed the front door behind him, locking it. He pushed you backwards before slamming you into a nearby wall.

You grasped his hair between your fingers, pulling at the strands, causing a moan to escape from his mouth. He touched every inch of your torso, reaching under your shirt and feeling the delicate skin. He pressed you against the wall with enough pressure to allow you to wrap your legs around him tightly. He grabbed your bottom to support you. Then he carried you to your shared room.

He set you down on the bed, and practically pounced on you, dying of anticipation. He straddled your waist between his knees. He pulled at your shirt needingly, and you gladly accepted his invitation to pull off your shirt, and you pulled him closer by his tie. Both your lips were slowly becoming swollen from the harshness of the kisses. Jun bit your bottom lip lightly, and tugged on it. His hands practically praised your body, feeling the delicate soft skin under the fabric of your skirt. You chuckled at his desperation, and he slid his tongue into your mouth, exploring it.

He grasped your inner thigh, and squeezed the delicate skin. You pulled him down by his neck so that he was closer to you. He pulled away from the kiss only to reconnect his lips at your collarbone. You yanked at his tie, telling him that you wanted it off. He pulled his hand away from your upper leg to pull the black fabric off, and you slam him against the headboard, desperately unbuttoning his shirt revealing his dancer body.

“Shit, you’re so hot,” you moan before kissing up his stomach and chest, pulling off your shoes, and throwing them across the room, Jun mimicking you. You pull his shirt completely off, throwing it somewhere on the floor, and he removed his pants completely, leaving him in just his underwear.

He climbed back on top of you, pressing his body against your, needingly. He kissed as much as your chest as he could with your bra on. He slid his hands between your legs and ran his fingers up, dangerously close to your pooling heat.

“I need to, baby girl,” Jun pleaded, playing with the fabric of your underwear. You shook your head, grabbing his wrists.

“Tell me, do naughty boys get rewarded?” You whispered in his ear. He shivered, and swallowed heavily. “Hmm?”

“No,” he said, his voice cracking a bit. You let out a laugh, and pushed on his chest to slam him onto his back.

“Do why should I reward you?” You asked lowly.

“Because I’ll be good,” Jun whined. “I’ll do whatever you ask.”

“See, I don’t trust you,” You threatened, climbing off the boy. Jun watched you, anticipating what you were going to do. You walked over to the closet and went threw a few things before finding something he wasn’t expecting you to bring back: a belt.

Jun was slightly nervous, scared of how you were going to use it, but you just simply tied it around the bed frame, and pulled Jun’s wrists through the loops before tightening it. Jun let out a small yelp, and you stopped tightening it, and finished buckling the belt. You had left your handcuffs in the car.

“Naughty boys don’t get to touch.”
Jun watched you intently, waiting for what punishment you were going to give him, and you kneeled above him, a knee on either side of his tensed abs. He was unintentionally nervous, and he wandered if this is how you felt every time he did this to you.

As Jun began to recover his composure, you reached behind you, and unclipped your bra. This caused Jun’s breath to speed up rapidly. He wanted nothing more then to reach out and grab them, kneed them to get you all hot and bothered. He pulled violently at the belt, and you let out a tisk.

“Always so needy, aren’t we Jun.” He let out a loud whine, and you shook your head once again. “Not even trying to be good. Naughty, naughty.”

“Please,” he let out a whine, and you chuckled, moving down to cover over his tent, grinding lightly. He bit his lip, trying his hardest not to let a sound slip out. You noticed, smirking.

“Smart boy, you’re learning.” You lowered you hips back down onto his boner, and watched his struggle to keep quite. As your grind, Jun bit his lip so hard that he thought blood might be drawn.

You pushed your hand against Jun’s bare chest and leaned down, while continuing to grind. You kissed him, and he released his lip from his teeth to accept your lips. You absorbed the moans that escaped his mouth, and moved your lips down to his neck, and kissed the soft skin, biting a bit, but not enough to leave a mark. You didn’t want the press getting any pictures of that.

As your continued to kiss, Jun let a frustrated grunt. You pulled away from his neck, only to see him trying his hardest to keep quiet. You faintly smiled, and went back to his neck before ghosting over his ear.

“See. You can be such a good boy when you try. Such a good little slut for me.” You whispered in his ear. It sent shivers down his spine.

You pulled away, and climbed off the bed, removing your panties completely. You pulled off Jun’s boxers slowly, and you saw his face overwhelmed with excitement. A frustrated tear fell from his eye.

As you pulled them off, you released his rock hard cock, already leaking with precum. Smirking, you climb back on top of him, one knee on either side. You notice how anxious Jun is and you sink down onto him, slowly. You reach down, and capture his lips into your own, swallowing his moans.

As you pick up your pace, Jun bucks his hips up, begging for more, but you deny it from him. Sitting up, you slow down, and hold his hips against the bed, letting out a low growl. He stops his movement, and you release your grip, and you began to sink down on him again, and let out a loud moan, making him want to buck his hips once again. To your surprise, he controls himself. You feel him about to release and you bend over to whisper in her ear.

“Don’t even think about coming before me, you brat!” You threatened. “My little cumslut.” Jun couldn’t help but pull at the belt as you began to speed up. He desperately wanted to cling to the bed sheets. He desperately wanted to lace his hands through you hair and pull at the strands. As you came, you let out a loud moan, and kept sinking down on Jun riding your orgasm out.

“Please,” Jun begged. “I’ll do anything.”

“Come for me my little slut,” You groaned in his ear, and with your permission, he came with a loud scream. You fell off of him, laying beside him, catching your breath. As soon as your breathing was steady, you pushed yourself up, and undid the belt, letting Jun’s wrists fall on the pillow underneath him. You carefully grasped his wrist and kissed the red marks the belt left on his sun kissed skin.

You threw the belt across the room, and both you and Jun climbed under the covers of the bed. You placed your hand on his beautiful face, and pressed your lips softly against his own.

“I love you,” you whispered to him. “You’re my everything, and I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you too,” he spoke back, wrapped his arms protectively around your waist.

“It wasn’t too much was it, Jagi?” You asked him, burying your head into his neck.

“No Jagiya. Of course not, you know I would tell you otherwise. And we have a safe word.” Jun reassured. He let out a low chuckle. “Besides… I deserved it.”